


Like sunlight

by aerococonut



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: A Very Soft Crowley, Confessions, Ft. The Ducks, M/M, Mostly based off the show but features book elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 07:16:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19825183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerococonut/pseuds/aerococonut
Summary: He wanted this, wanted it more than any mere temptation. He’d already chosen Aziraphale over and over. Already gone to the end of the world just to spend those few more minutes together. He’d gone to Heaven for the first time since his Fall, all to protect the one he l---Crowley realises that maybe Aziraphale means everything to him.





	Like sunlight

Sauntering into St James’ Park, Crowley grinned and tilted his face upward. The sunlight was deliciously warm on his face, courtesy of Adam’s subsequent rebooting of the world in the days after the almost-Apocalypse. If he was lucky, Soho would stay temperate longer, keep these perfect sunny days. Then again, that might be considered  _ meddling, _ and therefore a no-go.   
  
Well, he’d just have to enjoy it while it lasted.  
  
He fiddled with the shoestring tie around his neck, long, deft fingers adjusting the knot until it sat  _ just so _ . And then in response he had to adjust the line of his deep red dress shirt, and  _ then _ make sure the collar and weight of his sleek, expensive black jacket hung properly on his tall, thin frame. His black pants and snakeskin shoes completed today’s look. Black was classic.   
  
Crowley had dressed to impress. Not that he would do anything less.  
  
Running a hand through his carefully arranged deep red hair, he glanced around the park. His favourite pair of designer sunglasses hid his golden serpent’s eyes from the world.  
  
He was incongruous amongst the park’s other patrons; a dark, dangerous figure striding with a sinuous motion through a cheerful, welcoming park.   
  
This was where he’d been meeting Aziraphale for over a hundred years, and he was damned if he was going to change it now.  
  
Let the humans look. They’d only see one cool, collected customer, who looked like he belonged in a spy movie. At least, he privately hoped they would.   
  
Was his jacket really the right cut for today? Had he messed up his hair when he’d touched it before? Oh  _ hell _ he should have brought a pocket mirror.  
  
The endless spiral of his thoughts was thankfully put on hold when he found their usual spot free. A semi-judicious use of demonic powers had cleared a space right next to the duck pond. After all, Aziraphale liked feeding the ducks. It was a perfectly reasonable thing to do.  
  
Much to the detriment of several families, whose children were running around protesting they  _ wanted to feed the ducks _ and causing Crowley to wince at the volume.   
  
People were out in droves, taking in the opportunity to soak up the sun and chatter to each other. Couples walked hand in hand along the stone paths, the blasted ducks quacked in chorus, begging to be fed. A breeze scattered leaves across the carefully-trimmed lawn and sent hats flying. Even the brass band was contributing, filling the air with the sound of music.  
  
It was a riot of colour and sound, thrumming in a way that showed how  _ alive _ the humans were.   
  
Crowley tilted his head, listening to a couple of nearby government officials swapping notes on recent events; offers of working together to prepare for the future.  
  
Not that their words could compare to the discussion of beings six thousand years old. After all, can any human hope to comprehend that gulf of time? The sheer amount of  _ time _ he and the angel had shared? He was almost offended that these humans would dare think of time, and then realised he was getting annoyed for the wrong reasons.   
  
Sure, he and Aziraphale had history. They’d been enemies to start with, then friends, and now to something far greater than he could have imagined. Aziraphale meant more to him than the world. He’d realised that when he’d lost the angel and gone to face the end of the world black out drunk.   
  
A demon and an angel. Like a bad joke.  
  
Crowley shook his head and very deliberately tore his thoughts away from that concept.   
  
Instead, he let his eyes go out of focus, watching the light illuminate the motes of dust drifting through the air. He was so intent on the patterns they formed that he almost missed Aziraphale’s arrival.  
  
“Good day,” Aziraphale greeted, his voice low and inviting. He held out one of the two ice creams he held; a bead of rich red running down the side of Crowley’s favourite strawberry lolly one.   
  
He, too, looked out of place amongst the park’s patrons; an old-fashioned gentleman who’d perhaps lost his way from a university, or the like. His cream-coloured jacket, survivor of 180 years, was cleaner than it had been before Aziraphale’s untimely discorporation, sitting over the beige vest and pants. The sunlight glinted off the faint gold thread in the tartan bowtie the angel insisted on wearing.   
  
Nobody in this day and age should be wearing that, and yet it worked. In an old-style kind of way.  
  
Who was he kidding? It was so out of date it made him cringe. He only tolerated it because it was Aziraphale, and the angel held onto his possessions with an iron grasp.  
  
This close, Crowley could see the dust motes settle around Aziraphale’s shining white-gold hair, like a circlet of light. His traitorous body’s heart rate picked up.   
  
Damn it. How long had he spent staring at him? “Angel. Hey. Hello.” He tried for nonchalant and failed, his voice coming out breathy and nervous. Accepting the ice cream, he hastily flicked out a forked tongue to lap up the melting beads, strawberry sweetness bubbling on his taste buds.   
  
Aziraphale tasted his own ice cream, delight crossing his face. Sometimes, the angel liked to try different flavours, expand his horizons. Other times, like today, he went for simple; vanilla, with a chocolate flake. The best of both worlds. “Isn’t it a lovely day?” He gestured with his free hand, towards the people swarming the park.  
  
“Oh yeah...yeah it is.” Crowley scrambled about for something to say. Be cool, same as always. Instead, he licked his ice cream while his mind remained blank.   
  
Fortunately, Aziraphale didn’t seem to be suffering the same curse. “I finished cataloguing all the new books Adam saw fit to give me. It seems I have acquired rather a large amount of children’s novels. First editions, of course.” He blinked once, thoughtful. “Even the bookshop itself is more...organised than it was previously. It took much less time than I had expected, partially because the new ones were on display.”   
  
“What, you mean you didn’t stop to read them all?” Now here was familiar ground. Any time he could tease Aziraphale about his books meant they were on the same page.   
  
Sure enough, he got a grimace in return. “Now, now, you know I have my preferences. Besides, how could I enjoy them when I was unsure of just what they entailed? At least I have a reference of them all. It took some time to list them, and again to alphabetise them.” He dragged a thumb across his lips, wiping away ice cream.  
  
Crowley followed the motion, his throat suddenly dry. Oh no.   
  
“If you didn’t have plans for tonight, you could come around and I’ll read you one.” He looked over to Crowley and raised an inquisitive brow.   
  
Oh right, Crowley had invited him here. “No...no plans. We can do lunch, of course. My treat.” It was probably his turn anyway. “Wouldn’t mind being read to, either.” At least he could nap.  
  
Since their return to their own bodies, they’d spent every day together; either for lunch, or just to meet up. Crowley would let himself into the bookshop just to reassure himself that everything was okay, everything was over. They’d won a reprieve from Heaven and Hell’s vengeance.   
  
What he wanted was knowledge. To know Aziraphale was safe. The park was a neutral meeting spot. Safe. Theirs. Nothing out of the ordinary.  
  
Except that Crowley’s treacherous body wouldn’t stop hyperfixating on the angel, like a compass pointing true north. Well, that was to be expected, right? Six thousand years of friendship, eleven years in close proximity, a week of sheer terror where they’d been in constant contact? And then there was the  _ realisation _ he’d had when he thought Aziraphale had been killed. That hey...maybe the angel meant something he hadn’t dared admit, even to himself. Something that kept him coming back when there was no real reason to. The Apocalypse was over, but he still wanted to be near Aziraphale  _ anyway _ .  
  
Oblivious to his thoughts, Aziraphale finished his ice cream and sighed dreamily. “That was lovely.” A bag of duck food was suddenly, miraculously, in his hands, and he wasted no time flicking treats to the birds.  
  
He’d found out bread wasn’t nutritionally good for ducks and so had started bringing a mixed bag of corn, lettuce, seeds, oats, and frozen peas, amongst other things. That blasted, divine love manifested in strange ways sometimes.  
  
If only it included demons.  
  
Crowley stood up stock-straight, horrified at himself. He’d  _ thought _ that. In his own mind, he’d come to admit he wanted it. Wanted Aziraphale’s l--  
  
No. Nope. He wasn’t thinking about this any longer. “Do ducks really need to quack so loudly?” He glared at one offender, a large, speckled duck standing at Aziraphale’s feet.   
  
The inane question earned him a smile, and a bag held out towards him. “Would you like to help me feed them?” Aziraphale chuckled, nudging a duck closer to Crowley with the tip of his shoe.  
  
Crowley hissed at it, eyes narrowed behind his dark shades. “No. It’s a nice day, I’m not ruining it by encouraging your blasted ducks to mob us.”  
  
Aziraphale lit up, clear eyes bright. “Did you really just say it was  _ nice? _ He reached over to brush Crowley’s arm with a neatly-manicured hand. “I thought you weren’t four letter words.”  
  
“Oh shut it.” Crowley grumbled the words, though there was no malice behind them. Hadn’t been for hundreds, maybe thousands of years. The part of his arm where Aziraphale had touched him burned, a lingering heat through his jacket’s sleeve.   
  
Aziraphale always gave off warmth, like a miniature sun. Even now, he looked radiant. Like a piece of the Divine essence he carried made physical, unable to be contained by his mortal shell. The light played off his curls, bouncing gently in the breeze.  
  
Was it possible for demons to be affected by an angel’s mere presence? Because that’s what it felt like; gravity, or some other impenetrable force that kept pulling him closer, closer to that warmth.   
  
The silence was soothing. There was no  _ pressure _ to speak, to fill the air with words. Words had always been Aziraphale’s  forté, and he liked listening to the angel use them to weave spells in the air.   
  
However, without words to focus on, Crowley only had his own mind. And his mind was currently full of secrets he shouldn’t share.   
  
It wasn’t  _ Aziraphale’s _ fault Crowley had gone and let his emotions develop in an entirely stupid direction.   
  
Aziraphale loved him; loved everything, in fact. Even his silly ducks. Crowley never held that angelic love against him. But  _ Crowley _ , on the other hand, was a demon. Love was an  _ absolutely stupid _ thing for a demon to be feeling. Even when it was technically reciprocated, it didn’t mean he should act on it.  
  
He scowled at a duck that wandered too close. “Bugger off,” he told it, pulling his sunglasses down enough to show slitted golden snake eyes.  
  
The duck gave one alarmed  _ quack! _ and moved out of attack range.  
  
“Must you scare them all the time?” Aziraphale huffed, though the smile he sent Crowley was fond. “My dear, it’s hardly sporting.”  
  
Why did every  _ my dear _ send a fist clenching around his heart?   
  
“Thanks.” The word slipped out. He hadn’t meant to say it, didn’t know what he was saying it for.   
  
Aziraphale blinked in confusion.   
  
“For coming out, I mean. I know you’re busy with the bookshop, and taking care of things. And for helping me.” Crowley kicked himself mentally. Now he was being sappy. “You didn’t have to, but you did.” He’d lured Aziraphale into helping with the promise of further indulgences, but the angel had gone above and beyond when he’d ditched Heaven to incorporeally try to find Crowley.   
  
There was an awkward pause. “What brought this on?” Aziraphale asked eventually, when no more words were forthcoming. “I appreciate your kindn-- your gratitude, though it is not needed. We worked together. Side by side. Both of us could not have succeeded alone.” He leaned over to bump Crowley’s shoulder. “We’re partners, aren’t we? I enjoy spending time with you.”  
  
Crowley inhaled sharply and almost choked. “How can you say things like that with a straight face?” And now, of all times, when his mind caught on the words and dared to  _ hope _ .   
  
Those words, from an angel who had frequently insisted they weren’t even friends.  
  
Aziraphale drew himself up, one hand brushing down his vest. “My dear Crowley,” he began, voice solid, confident, “I think we’ve been saying something along these lines for long enough, don’t you?” He adjusted the bowtie at his neck and nodded once.  
  
Crowley stared at his throat and swallowed.  
  
“After all, we’re here now, aren’t we? After the Apocalypse, it seems foolish to be wasting time with possibilities, when we could be certain. I, for one, am tired of floundering in the dark.” He turned sharp eyes on Crowley, posture resolute. “It is foolish to pretend any longer. I welcome your companionship, and I would have fought Hell itself to keep it.” He turned his nose up and waited.  
  
That was Aziraphale; a soft, well-spoken angel with a core of truly bastard steel. When he meant something,  _ he meant it _ .  
  
Crowley, on the other hand, felt like he’d been punched, all the breath leaving him in a rush. Was it possible for a demon to have heart palpitations? His seemed to be fluttering far too fast. “ _ Angel _ ,” he gasped, clutching at his chest. “You can’t...you can’t just say things like that!”  
  
“Can’t I?” Aziraphale shrugged, looking around at the people nearby. “We’ve already told our respective offices what we think. We’ve picked  _ our side _ .” He grinned then, the expression positively wicked. “I think I made it obvious I picked you over them, and I’m sticking to that decision. Seems ridiculous to feel guilty about it any longer.”   
  
Crowley stared at him, unable to comprehend what he was hearing. “W-what…?”  
  
“So...I want to continue meeting with you. For lunches, meetings, for readings at the bookshop. Going to the opera, and the theatre. For rides in your car, all the more to see new things.”  
  
The hope blistered inside him, bursting free of the cage he’d shoved it in and spreading wings. “Me too,” Crowley gasped out, his hands clenching into fists on his pants and ruining the line of the fabric. “I want that too.” Words, he needed to say them. Needed to be sure. “Let’s be clear. We’re...we’re sticking together, right? Permanently?”  
  
“I would like to think so.” Aziraphale shifted his weight, the corners of his lips tilting up. “If you’ll have me, of course.”  
  
“Yeah.” Crowley blessed himself. Dear  _ Somebody _ was that the best his cool, collected words could do?   
  
Then again, actions were easier than words. A physical gesture; a mark, to show he was on the same page as Aziraphale, that he wanted this too.  
  
He reached out to grab Aziraphale’s wrist, sliding his hand down until he could link their fingers together. “Is this alright?” Crowley asked quietly, flicking his gaze up to meet the angel’s. His heart thundered in his chest like the rumble of music through the Bentley at full volume.   
  
He wanted this, wanted it more than any mere temptation. He’d already chosen Aziraphale over and over. Already gone to the end of the world just to spend those few more minutes together. He’d gone to  _ Heaven _ for the first time since his Fall, all to protect the one he l--   
  
Aziraphale smiled, one of those perfect, divine smiles that sliced through Crowley like the flaming sword he’d once owned. One that said he saw through Crowley and liked what he saw. He rubbed his thumb along Crowley’s fingers. “Of course, my dear. Are you alright?”  
  
Crowley could see the responses laid out before him. No matter what, Aziraphale would respect his answer. If he said no, if he said it was going too fast for him, Aziraphale would wait. “I’m fine,” he coughed, around a throat suddenly too tight. What had he done to deserve this? He was a demon, and a terrible one at that. “Never better.”  
  
Oddly enough, that was true. The Apocalypse had been averted, and he and Aziraphale had escaped retribution for their actions against their respective offices. Now they were free to live their lives. Together.  
  
Aziraphale inclined his head, eyes crinkling at the sides. “It’s the same for me, of course. It feels as if a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. My stint in Hell,” he shuddered, “was terrifying, but we won ourselves some time from it and saved each other from obliteration.” He held up their joined hands. “There are things I am truly grateful to have saved,” he said, voice firm. “And it seems silly to feel guilty about enjoying them. Our Arrangement, naturally. My books. You.”  
  
“Your food and good wine,” Crowley interjected, understanding what he was saying, a grin pulling up his lips. Demons weren’t supposed to want angels, and he’d be lying if he didn’t feel guilty about some of the thoughts he’d had in the past. He squeezed the hand in his a little tighter, just to relish the feeling of skin against skin, of physical touch.   
  
“That too,” Aziraphale chuckled. “I suppose all those examples have something in common.” The words were light, but held a wealth of meaning.  
  
Crowley looked at him. Thought about the sunlight on his face and dancing around Aziraphale, about the warmth of a hand held in his own. Watched the unapologetically soft smile appear on Aziraphale’s lips. “If I had to guess,” he leaned in close, “I’d have to say...love. I’m right, aren’t I?” He leaned down to look over his glasses, letting Aziraphale see the truth in his eyes.  
  
“You would be correct.” Aziraphale beamed, holding up their hands so he can press a kiss to Crowley’s knuckles. “It’s been a long enough time pretending, I think. We’re free now.” He stares directly at Crowley, luminous eyes shining. “So...I love you. In a very real sense that has nothing to do with being an angel.”   
  
His heart  _ hurts _ , but in a good way. Like his body isn’t big enough to contain the new knowledge (was it really new? Or had he known all along how they felt, just too caught up in themselves to put that feeling of affection into words?). He thinks, maybe they’d been falling in love for millennia. A long, slow burn that started with a wave and built and built until it crashed over him here and now in one, overdue crest.   
  
He moved closer, pressing his arm into Aziraphale’s, stealing just a little of his heat. “Yeah. I feel the same way.” Even now, part of him wants to flinch away, return things as they were rather than risk the unknown. The worries, the fears that threatened to overwhelm him. "  
  
It was too late for that though, the words had been said. He wanted more. “I love you too.” In the end, it’s easy, as if the words had been sitting on his tongue for years, just waiting to be released.  
  
Aziraphale laughed, soft and delighted. The light reflected off his face and his hair, limning him in gold. Beautiful, radiant.   
  
It hit Crowley like a punch to the heart. This is impossible. Angels and demons don’t love each other. And yet, here there are. Crowley moved his free hand to the back of Aziraphale’s neck, closing the distance between them completely. He rested their foreheads together, needing more, needing them closer. “It’ssss...good. To say it, I mean. And mean it.” Even being drunk can’t compare to how he feels now, a soft, tender haze of feeling sitting under his breastbone and filling him with contentment.   
  
Funny, that it was called  _ falling _ in love. All he felt now was  _ light _ , like the thermals underneath his wings sending him soaring. Falling was harsh, and painful. Nothing like this overwhelming acceptance from someone who knew him as he was, and  __ loved him anyway.  
  
To think, they could have been doing this all along.  
  
No, that wasn’t right. He knew that before hadn’t been the right time. They’d needed things to work out this way, for this one perfect moment to fall into place. He snorted then, torn between self-disgust in his emotions and disbelief that he was feeling them. “It’s almost...ineffable.” His shoulders shake, laughter tearing from his throat. “Don’t you think?”  
  
For once, the angel didn’t answer immediately. “It feels...right,” he said eventually, one hand sliding down Crowley’s back. His other hand relinquished his grasp on Crowley’s hand, unlinking their fingers so they can stand face to face. “It feels...balanced. Doesn’t it?”  
  
“Mm.” Crowley could stay in this one moment forever. Lunch dates be damned. Well, no, he liked watching the angel’s joy at eating.  
  
Aziraphale moved to stand next to him, linking their arms together. “What does it feel like for you, then?” The sunlight shone around him, a halo of love and warmth.  
  
Crowley closed his eyes and tilted his head towards the angel. “Feels like sunlight.”

**Author's Note:**

> *walks into fandom 30 years late but full of Feelings*
> 
> This was written for the prompt 'sunlight'. If you liked it, please let me know! I'm getting back into writing again so any comments and kudos are appreciated. <3 
> 
> Thank you for letting me sneak into this beautiful, blessed world where angels and demons are in love.


End file.
